


Its Own Punishment

by Bunn1cula



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen, Horizon prompt, Humor, and jenna is over blake's, avon/vila hijinks, cally has some things to think about now, papa blake is over everyone's shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23058442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunn1cula/pseuds/Bunn1cula
Summary: Avon and Vila make a bet.Written for (but not posted to ) Horizon's January 2020 ficlet prompt:‘See if you can sober up Vila.’ - Tarrant, Stardrive.Perhaps Vila should participate in Dry January?The word prompt this month is … TEMPERANCENot just abstinence from alcohol but any form of voluntary self-restraint.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 22





	Its Own Punishment

The first moment Blake noticed something strange was on the flight deck, minutes after Jenna had pulled a harrowing piloting hat trick to evade four pursuit ships in the upper atmosphere of Talos. Avon and Cally had nearly not made it back in time, and were unceremoniously dumped back onto the teleport pad before _Liberator_ careened off on a random course at standard by nine.

“We’ve got them, Blake,” Gan had announced over the speaker from the teleport room. “Back and…mostly safe, I think.”

“Good. Get Avon up here right away, I need him on a critical repair.” He glanced to Jenna. “Bring it back down to standard by two until we can properly see where we are going.”

“Right! I’ll tell him now—” Gan nearly got out on the comm before Avon appeared at the entryway, muddy and glowering.

“Welcome back, Avon,” said Blake, with barely a glance. “Zen needs your help repairing guidance grid sixteen, section two alpha. We’re nearly flying blind.”

Avon hesitated at the top of the stairs, working his jaw and grimacing for a moment before silently gliding down to the panel just below Zen’s interface screen. Without stopping to remove his soiled silver field jacket, he produced a probe from a pocket and went straight to work.

Cally breathlessly swung into the entranceway and clung to the doorway for momentary support. “What on Auron took you so long to bring us up!” She glared as Gan gently pushed past her back to his station, a look of chagrin hot on his face. “We very nearly suffocated in that mud pit!”

“Sorry about that, Cally, we had unexpected company,” said Blake, checking the screens again before leaning back in his station chair. He took a great breath and visibly relaxed his shoulders. “We had to pull some enterprising maneuvers.”

“You mean _I_ had to pull them,” corrected Jenna from the pilot’s station, still on manual control, “while you stood there barking orders at me.”

“Well, not just at you,” Blake grinned. “I bark orders at everyone.”

“Right, it’s an equal opportunity dictatorship around here,” said Vila, leaning onto an elbow and propping up his head. “Blake barks and we all wag our tails. Except Avon, of course—robots don’t have tails.”

Everyone on the flight deck looked to Avon for a retort, but none came.

Blake raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter, Avon? Cat got your tongue?”

“No way,” needled Vila. “Cats keep away from robots. All that clanging about.”

“Leave him alone,” grumbled Cally, pulling off her jacket and taking a seat at the couch. “We nearly just died.”

“Thank you, Cally, but I do not need further rescuing today.” Avon gently replaced the panel and stood, hands folded in front of him, facing Blake. “The circuits are repaired. You may now order any course or speed you like from Zen. And anyone else.”

“That’s it?” whined Vila.

Avon’s eyes squinted and he sneered his lips apart just enough to spit a scathing reply, when he evidently thought the better of it, shut his mouth, and settled for one of his unsettling half-smirks instead.

Blake quizzically studied each of them, but neither gave up the game. “Thank you, Avon,” he said, deciding the moment should be over. “I’m sure we all appreciate your fast work.”

“Well, I’d appreciate not doing another one of those atmo jumps again,” said Vila. “That was at least the third time today I thought I was going to either toss up my lunch or die, or both.”

“Perhaps you should find something to calm your nerves and relax your disposition,” suggested Avon. “A drink, perhaps?”

The grin that accompanied that suggestion was rather a little too dark, thought Blake.

“Vila, stay out of the soma and adrenalin!” chided Cally from the couch. “It’s—”

“Medicinal—I know!” finished Vila for her. “I wouldn’t _dream_ of wasting our supplies.” He smiled at Avon. _Nice try_ , he mouthed.

“Well then,” said Avon, ignoring the silent remark, “now that we are all safe little mammals—and machines,” he pursed his lips sardonically, “I am going to retire for the night. It has been, as they say, a day.”

“Goodnight, Avon,” said Blake warily.

“Don’t let the rust bugs bite,” said Vila.

Cally stood and gathered up her jacket. “I’m very tired as well. I’m coming with you, Avon.”

“Oooh,” said Vila, wagging his eyebrows saucily, “hope you’ve had your tetanus shot, Cally. You never know where he’s had his probe, after all—” He was interrupted by hands on the back of his shoulders, lifting him out of his seat.“Avon!” he cried out, immediately cowering and trying to pull out of the other man’s death grip on his tunic. “Let go!”

Blake rushed over, anger distorting his features. “Avon, let go of him this instant!” He grabbed Vila himself and shoved him away towards Gan, who caught Vila easily. Blake pressed his face threateningly close to Avon’s. “What the hell is the matter with you!” Then he turned to Vila. “The both of you!”

“Pay up, Avon,” Vila chimed.

“Absolutely not,” growled Avon through gritted teeth, glaring past Blake to Vila.

“You lost fair and square!”

“I’m sorry…what is happening here?” asked Gan, his arms rather more protective than restraining around Vila.

“That is a very good question!” exclaimed Blake. “Now I want answers, and I want them now!”

“These two idiots made a bet, Blake,” sighed Jenna wearily.

“And Avon lost,” gloated Vila.

“The wager only included sarcasm and insults. _Not_ physical violence,” said Avon evenly.

“I’d say that’s a sight more serious than snide comments. That’s an automatic forfeit, that is!”

“Shut up, Vila,” said Blake. “Avon, what was the bet?”

“No insults, veiled or otherwise, from me, and no drinking for him for one week. The first to break was to pay the other one thousand credits.”

“One thousand credits?” asked Blake incredulously. “Vila’s probably got twice that in just his left boot right now. What sense is there in this?”

“It’s not the money, it’s the principle!” said Vila. “Bragger’s rights—you know, that sort of thing.”

“Which you have zero right to,” said Avon. “The bet was between you and I, and you and I only. Insulting Cally to goad me into thrashing you was _your_ forfeit.”

“Cally! When did I insult _Cally_?”

“When you insinuated she would go to bed with me.”

“That was meant to be an insult?” asked Cally, wide-eyed.

“Well, you wouldn’t— _would_ you?” asked Gan. He and Vila shared a questioning glance.

Cally cocked her head and blinked her big guileless eyes. “I’ve never properly thought about it.”

“I’ve lost track of how many people I’ve insulted now,” said Vila. “Anyone who’s been or not been to bed with Avon…I’m, uh, sorry. Can I go now?”

“Enough!” shouted Blake. “Evidently this is the sort of foolishness that occurs when the two of you have too much time on your hands. I can fix that. Jenna!” He whirled about to face his pilot, who leaned onto her post at the elbows and directed a peculiar expression at him somewhere between expectation and impatience. It caught him short for a second (he wasn’t sure exactly why) but he swallowed and quickly recovered and dropped his voice into the lower register he used for flight deck command. “Set a randomized course for Sector 11. Standard by eight. That’s all you need to know for now.”

Jenna raised an acerbic eyebrow but did as he said. “Anything else? My watch ended twenty minutes ago.”

“No. I’ll take over the flight deck—while Avon performs a full manual circuit scan and Vila visually inspects the sump system. All of it.”

“Good night then!” said Gan brightly before lumbering away with Cally and Jenna behind him.

“I suppose it wouldn’t do any good to complain about this,” sighed Vila, “but there’s no sense in not trying. Blake, I can’t go down in the sump pipes—I’m claustrophobic! Can’t I at least get a tiny fortifying drink in first?”

“No. Suit up, Vila.”

“This is childish, Blake,” said Avon after Vila left. “I will begin your scan in the morning, but for now I am filthy, I am tired, and I am going to bed. Alone.”

“Are you sure?” Blake quipped.

“Dead certain. I am barring the door.”

“Perhaps you should take the adrenalin and soma with you. For safe keeping.”

“I’d sooner chuck it out the airlock. Perhaps Vila would follow it.”

Blake laughed, then dropped his eyes down to the sensor array console. “Get some rest. Start your sweep no later than 0700 tomorrow.”

Avon was silent for a moment. Then: “Why the deferment for me, and not Vila? I hope you aren’t feeling some misplaced sense of pity for my exhaustion-spurred display of sentiment earlier.”

“For Cally, you mean? No, I don’t pity you for that. I suspect we all feel similarly for her. Though she certainly doesn’t need it, she’s tougher than the rest of us combined. Anyway, that’s not the reason. Vila left a half-empty bottle between the sofa cushions last night. He took watch after me, and then I woke him this morning, half-draped over the force wall console.”

A slow smile crept over Avon’s face. “I see.”

Blake returned the smile. “Good night, Avon.”

“Good night, Blake.”


End file.
